People on the sidewalk stopped and snapped pictures as I passed by. I just kept walking with the phone pressed to my ear while Grandma berated me about the video I’d posted. “Boy, you done gone and lost your mind.”

I couldn’t help but laugh because she sounded a little like DMX. “I’m fine,” I promised as the glass doors with the Capstone Records logo slid open.

“I’d be ill as a hornet if I was her. Asking the entire intraweb to find her.”

“It’s the internet, Grandma.”

“Whatever web it is, I’d be angrier than a three-legged dog in heat.” I pressed the button to the elevator. “No privacy. Bless her soul, if you find her tell her I said to whack you upside the head for me, you hear?”

“I’ll be sure to do that, seeing as how I’m a masochist and all.”

“I don’t need to know about any of that devil stuff.”

I rolled my eyes. “Look, I gotta go talk to Debra about some tour stuff, but I’ll check on you later, okay?”

“Well, alright. But you know, you should’ve just sent her some roses and chocolates. That’s real romance. Hunting her down like you’re dogblasted J. Edgar Hoover ain’t.”

“Alright, Grandma. Love you.”

“I love you too, you hoodlum.”

Within two hours of me posting that video three people that worked with her had sent me a message. I won’t lie, I smiled just a little when I found out she was in Australia of all places—the farthest away from Rockford you could get.

The elevator doors dinged open and I stepped out, following the dark hardwoods down to the office at the end. I tapped on the door and it pushed open an inch. Debra sat behind her massive mahogany desk with the phone pressed to her ear. She glanced up and waved me in before smoothing a hand over her gray dress suit.

“It’s fine, George. It’s fine. We’ll have the copyright department go over the rights and we’ll be in touch with the lawyers. Stop worrying!” She slammed the receiver down on the phone base and sighed. “Since when have men become such divas? What do you need.” She wasn’t even looking at me when she grabbed a stack of papers and started thumbing through them.

“I, uh...” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I need to take some time off.”

She laughed, still thumbing through the papers. “Funny. What do you need?”

“Three days off.”

Her eyes fluttered shut on an agitated groan. She slammed her hand over the papers before glancing up with one of her signature fake smiles. “You can have three days off when the tour is over in, oh…”—she checked her computer and squinted—“three months.”

“Debra, just three days.”

“You’re serious?” She glared at me without saying a word for a good two minutes, every once and a while drumming her manicured nails on the desk. “You’ve lost your mind.” She tossed her hands into the air. “That is the only thing I can think of.”

“I’m asking for three days!”

“In the middle of a tour.”

“Actually, it’s more like the tail end…”

Her nostrils flared like a bull and her entire body shook. “You can’t just…”—she frantically waved her hands around—“flit off whenever you want.”

I sunk down into the chair and groaned. “It’s an emergency.”

She arched a brow. “No, it’s not.”

“It fucking is!”

“Noah, everyone in the free world has seen your video…” She pointed at me. “Amazing PR move by the way, sales have skyrocketed—but that’s beside the point, you have shows. Sold out shows. You can’t leave to go find her.” She grabbed a piece of paper from the edge of her desk and scribbled something on it. “She’ll be wherever she is when you get through touring.”

“Jesus.” I pushed up from the chair. “You don’t own me.”

“No, I don’t. The label does. Congratulations on being famous, sweet cheeks.” She held the piece of paper out. “Here, go fill this and just relax for the next three months.”

I walked to the desk, snatched the piece of paper from her hand, and stared down at the little blue prescription form.

“What the hell is this?”

“Xanax. You need some.”

“You aren’t even a doctor.”

She rolled a shoulder and smirked. “I am as far as Capstone Records is concerned.”

I balled it up and tossed it at her. “I don’t need that load of shit.” Then I left the office, fuming all the way down the elevator and into the lobby.

“Hey, Noah,” some girl said as I stormed toward the exit.

I grunted and shoved the doors open, walking in an angry daze to the parking lot. “I just want three days. Three days. One day to get there. One day to see her. One day to bring her back,” I mumbled to myself before climbing into my car and driving off.

“Now boarding priority for Delta flight 248 bound for Perth, Australia.”

“Tell me I can’t have three fucking days,” I mumbled as I pushed away from the wall. I pulled my ball cap down when I stepped up to the attendant desk and scanned the ticket on my phone.

“Enjoy your flight Mr.…” there was the pause, the moment a fan tried to maintain their professionalism. “Mr. Greyson.”

When I glanced up and smiled, her cheeks reddened. “Thanks,” I said, staring at the boarding pass on my phone. The loud hum of the generators on the jet bridge were almost like the sound of home these days.

Once on the plane, I quickly found my spot and stowed my carryon away before falling into the comfy first-class seat. I pulled one of her letters out of my pocket, staring at the words: I loved you.

A lady with box-dyed black hair and a leopard print shirt waddled down the aisle and plopped in the seat next to me. I tucked the letters safely away. “So you’re my flying buddy today, huh?” she said with a grin.

“Looks like it.”

“It’s my first time to Australia. I’ve always dreamed of going.”

Great! She was a talker. “Yeah, it’s a nice place.”

“Oh, you’ve been?” She gave me a quick once-over. “Oh, you must be going home.”

I narrowed my eyes. “No, just going to visit.”

“Oh, well.” She shimmied down in her seat before popping her purse open and pulling out a pack of gum. “You had this look on your face like you were going home. Something in your eyes.” She took a piece of gum, then offered me a stick.

“I’m fine…thanks.”

Sighing, she dropped her purse to the floor as a stewardess came by followed by a few passengers. “You know,” the lady said. “You look awfully familiar.”

“Yeah…I get that a lot.”

She studied my face. “Uncanny resemblance to somebody.”

I shrugged.

“Well, I won’t bother you too much.” She bent over and pulled a magazine out of her bag, flipping it open. On the back cover was an advertisement for my latest album. I sunk down in the seat and pulled my cap over my eyes waiting for the damn plane to take off.